


The Use of Ashes

by Stone_Princess



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate History, Drug Use, M/M, Non-Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-17
Updated: 2005-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-01 10:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stone_Princess/pseuds/Stone_Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-Smallville. Lex rebels and pays the price. (repost)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Use of Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I owe the creators of Superman and Smallville a huge debt for giving me something wonderful to work with. I do not own or have any rights to the characters herewithin.
> 
> Note: Thanks to Bexless for helping me to not embarrass myself with the Brit slang. And much love to my army of betas: Nerodi, because she's so brilliant, smart and beautiful, oh and funny, did I mention funny? Rhiannonhero for being my Pixie/Pony and for pushing me even when I was stubborn. Joyfulgirl, because she's always got my back Autumnyte for sharing my brain and giving such great comments in feedback! Alison for always asking questions I'm never sure how to answer. And not least, Pun, for talking me through it and holding my hand the whole way.

* * *

"Bollocks, Lex. It's half five. They're doing an inspection at six today! I though I was going to have to cover for you again." Charles' voice was full of worry. Lex didn't look at him as he locked the dorm door.

"No big deal. I'm here, aren't I?" Leaving a trail of shed clothing, Lex walked to the closet. 

"Have you even been to bed?" Charles asked. He sat on the edge of his small bed, his shirt and tie clashing with the flannel pajama bottoms he wore. 

"I don't need sleep." 

"It's fucked up, Lex. What if your father found out, about the drugs, about the blokes? He'd kill you!" 

Lex stripped out of the last of the smoke-sodden clothes he'd worn to the club as he spoke, "You don't know fuck-all about my father, Charles. I have my own life. It doesn't have anything to do with him. Why don't you stick to subjects you know about, like chemistry and masturbation?" 

"You'll be shafted if they catch you." Charles was the picture of a concerned granny. Lex thought a teenage boy should never be so concerned about the morality of the actions of others as Charles always was. "If people knew what you were doing the press would rake your family over the coals. It's dangerous. My mum gets all stroppy about it. She says the press won't give an inch to families like ours if we make a mistake." 

"No one will find out. I have everything under control." Wearing only his boxers, Lex laid out two lines of speed on the dresser top mirror as he spoke. 

"Fuck! Lex. Don't do that shit in here." Charles moved toward Lex as he admonished. 

"Want some?" Lex handed Charles the rolled twenty pound note. 

"Yeah..." 

* * *

Though candles glowed where they sat, the far end of the long dining table was almost invisible in the darkness. It was a long-standing tradition for father and son to eat together in the formal dining room on Lex's first night back from school. 

Lionel laid down his fork and looked at his son. "Your grades were good this term, Lex. Very good, but don't expect any laudatory speeches from me about them. I demand excellence." 

Lex put down his own fork and folded his hands in his lap before answering. 

"Yes, father." Lex's voice was pitched low, the standard answer given without emotion. He looked steadily at his father. Lex anticipated the coming speech, but knew enough not to let his irritation show. 

"I know you have been going out socially. That's fine. I recall it seems a very important thing to do at your age, but don't let it interfere with your studies. You could be a great man one day, son." Lionel's jaw twitched as he examined Lex's appearance. Lex thought he detected a hint of resignation in Lionel's voice as his father went on. "You just have to apply yourself." As his remonstration ended, Lionel resumed eating, a signal that Lex could do the same. A variation on this speech had been given every time Lex returned from school for as long as he could remember. The part about not letting social activities interfere was new and Lex wondered what his father's lackeys had reported about him this time. 

The silence throughout the rest of dinner was occasionally broken by Lionel's inquiries about Lex's studies. With each answer, Lionel dictated specific instructions regarding how Lex should expand his education on the subject mentioned. As Lionel lectured, Lex stared into the darkness, watching shapes crawl there. He shook them away, wondering if it was jet lag or simple sleep deprivation that made him hallucinate. 

Afraid he would no longer be able to hide his boredom, Lex excused himself as the plates were cleared. His father's voice stopped him when he reached the doorway. 

"I know you think you can shock me with your clothing, son, but you can't. The torn t-shirt and the silver nail polish are simply trashy. I expect you to be dressed properly for dinner in the future. And, please, be more original in your rebellion." 

Lex smiled to himself as he went down the hall. 

* * *

In his room, Lex laid out two lines of meth on the mirror his mother had once kept on her dressing table. He hadn't slept since he left Eton, a day and a half before, and he had no intention of starting now. 

Dinner with his father had been the same as always. The admonitions about his grades, the lesson plan for what he should study outside of classes. No questions about Lex's well being. No interest in Lex's ideas. Lex mentally pushed all that aside, angry at himself for caring at all what Lionel thought. 

When he finished speeding himself up for the evening, he wiped the mirror clean, put it away and went to the closet to find something to wear. The last time he'd been home to Metropolis he hadn't yet started clubbing, but now he had a good idea of where to go and how he should look. If nothing else, London had kept him well ahead of American trends. 

* * *

In lieu of identification, Lex gave the doorman a hundred-dollar bill and traded a few words with him. It was the third time he'd been here this week. He wasn't sure if the man recognized him or not. It didn't matter. This wasn't the kind of club where the staff talked about who came and went. Discreet but still no place for the Luthor heir. 

Once inside, Lex ordered a drink and surveyed the room. It was early enough for it to be half-empty. Expensive rent boys teased each other as they played pool. The music was low, a throbbing beat, the club's own pulse. Lex avoided the boys at the pool table, they had taunted him in the bathroom the night before, commenting on things they had done to his father, wondering aloud what his father might have done to him. Lex was above their crude comments. He knew they only tried to rattle him because he was new in this club, this town, but he knew the game as well as they did. Maybe better. 

Lex picked a target. The man sat at the end of the bar, looking out of place in his tie, his jacket thrown carelessly across the stool next to him, dark hair, a little too long, brushed back. Exactly the kind of man who would fawn all over Lex, beg to suck his cock and then offer him money. 

"What's your name?" Lex asked, sounding breathy and young, as he sat down. 

"Richard." 

"Can I just call you Dick?" Lex's voice was soft, nearly simpering and he was sure the man neither got the joke nor heard the condescension behind his words. 

* * *

Lex followed the man back to his hotel in almost total silence. He hadn't given his real name and hadn't said much more. 

Having closed and locked the hotel door, Lex turned to his trick. 

"Take off your shirt and that silly tie," he commanded in a voice very different than the one he had used in the club. He watched intently as Richard obliged without question. Lex ran his thumb thoughtlessly around the waistband of his leather pants as he watched the older man strip. The suit was satisfactorily removed, Lex beckoned the man to him. When he was close enough, Lex grabbed Richard's belt and pulled until they were chest to chest. 

"Now, take off my shirt," his whispered gruffly, his lips on his trick's ear. Richard's silence as he pulled off Lex's tight grey t-shirt showed he already knew the rules of this game. 

Lex ran a hand over his scalp, down his bare chest and said, "Get on your knees and undo my pants." 

After nearly an hour, Richard had been degraded, derided, humiliated, teased and tortured. Lex still felt empty. The games of these evenings were rapidly losing their thrill. 

"Get on your knees and spread your ass for me." Lex wondered if his disappointment showed in his voice. He fucked Richard hard, from behind, not wanting to see his face. 

The name Richard called out as he came wasn't Lex's own. Lex wasn't even sure if it was the name that he'd given at the beginning of the evening. 

Lex came silently, he had no names to call. 

As he cleaned up in the bathroom, Lex studied himself in the mirror. Had his expression been so blank, even as he came? The cold splash of water and rough rub of the towel felt more meaningful than anything that had transpired during the night. 

When he came out dawn was peeking through the curtains, Richard was asleep, face down on the bed. Lex left without taking the money on the dresser. 

Lex wouldn't sleep today despite the figures twisting and dancing in his peripheral vision and the tightness down his neck. The days all blended together, only books and music gave them shape. The coming night would be as many before it. Hopefully better. 

* * *

It had been four days since Lex last sat adjacent to his father at the table that could have held twenty guests. The dark end of the room was much more appealing to Lex than where he sat now. He hadn't slept since the last dinner with his father and the lights were playing tricks on him. Tiny movements on the edges of shadows kept catching Lex off guard. 

The clink of silver on china rang loudly in room, no other sound interrupted it. Lionel was immersed in his food as Lex idly pushed his around his plate. Hoping a sufficient amount of time had passed, Lex excused himself. Again, his father's voice caught him in the doorway. 

"Lex, I'd like to see you in my study. Martine will come fetch you when I am ready. Until then, please stay in your room." 

Lex's face burned as he walked the hall to his room. 

* * *

Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he followed Martine down the hall, Lex tugged down the black shirt that clung to him. He knew his jeans were too low and almost too tight, but they held him like armour. The black leather bands at his wrists accenting the strength in the graceful curve of his bones. His movements felt lithe and lissome, his hips swiveling as he walked. There was no fear in meeting his father, he felt powerful in these clothes. 

The light from his father's office flowed into the hallway, shimmering and twisting. Lex almost wished he hadn't done that last line. Almost. 

Lionel sat at his desk, his attention on his work. He gave Lex no indication he should sit. Lex slipped into the chair nearest Lionel's desk, settling himself bonelessly, legs spread too wide. 

Lionel chose to ignore Lex's minor rebellion and spoke without looking up. "Really, Lex, I'd think at 16 that you are too old for conversations about what is appropriate behavior and what is not." 

"Yes, sir." Lex's voice was low, adult, and sarcastic. Lionel looked up at the sound of it. As he took in Lex's posture, Lex's clothes, something unrecognizable flickered through his eyes. 

"Dominic says he saw you out last night." Lex evenly returned Lionel's gaze, despite the air around his father glimmering and twisting. "Did you go out last night, Lex?" Lionel's brow twitched as he asked but somehow Lex failed to heed the anger in the movement. He knew it was there, it just became meaningless, like a word stared at until the letters become nonsense. 

"Yes, father, I did." And you never would have known if someone hadn't told you, Lex thought. Lex continued to stare at Lionel, eyes half closed, running his thumb across the waist band of his jeans, enjoying the roughness of the fabric against the soft pad of his thumb. He knew he was in trouble, but lack of sleep gave everything a dream-like quality that the meth barely sharpened the edges of. 

"And where did you go?" Lionel's gaze followed Lex's thumb, he saw his father's eyes take in the flash of stomach as he adjusted his shirt. He saw Lionel's hands clench and wondered only at the whiteness of his father's knuckles. 

Lex felt that his father's eyes on him were a weak point in the Lionel armour. Licking his lips, Lex glanced up, hoping to see some response in his father's eyes, to see emotion betrayed by more than twitches and white knuckles. 

"I went to Roxy." Lex spoke coldly, challenging, knowing his father would recognize the name. 

"That club is inappropriate and far too public. If the press got wind of this, you would drag the Luthor name through the mud with you. Don't you have more sense than that, Lex?" Lionel asked, his eye intent on Lex's flattened palm sliding up and down the inseam of his jeans. 

The fabric of his jeans felt so rough and good against his hand that Lex wanted to compare it to something else. He ran his hand over his smooth, bare scalp and down his chest over the stretchy fabric of his shirt. His palm electrified at each change in sensations. The wall behind his father crawled. Lex wondered, did his father have some power that made even the walls tremble? He couldn't remember the question he'd just been asked. 

"What?" 

"God damn it, Lex, it's bad enough that I have to ask if you know what's appropriate, but to have to ask you when you sit there looking like a cheap rent boy is unacceptable." 

"Does it threaten you?" Lex smirked. He pushed it farther with his next words, taunting, "What's worse? That I have sex? Or are you more concerned that I'll hear the stories the Metropolis rent boys tell about you?" 

Again, Lex was distracted by the shimmering wall and the feeling of his own hands on his thighs. The blow was total surprise. Reaching to touch the blood trickling down his chin, Lex looked up. It was as if Lionel had never moved. 

"You have to use strategy, but it's not a game. It isn't about acting like you have the upper hand, Lex. It's about actually having it." Lionel grabbed him, capturing both wrists before Lex could gather himself up to resist. "Sometimes, even when you think you have the upper hand, you don't." Pushed roughly against the desk, Lex twisted and struggled, embarrassed at his inability to get free. What was his father doing? Lex hadn't been spanked since he was seven. Lionel's other hand pulled at the buttons on his jeans and Lex's body went rigid in astonishment. 

"Is this what you do with the men I always hear about from Dominic? Tease until they take you?" Lionel asked as denim scraped along Lex's thighs, his jeans unceremoniously yanked to his knees. 

"Don't do this." His voice was so small, Lex felt the words disappear into the room, unheard. 

"Do you like to pretend that you are the one in control before you let them take you?" His knees were pushed wide as his father spoke. 

Lionel spit into his own palm. It turned Lex's stomach but he listened carefully to each sound, willing one to carry him away from the hardness pressing against his bare ass. Everything felt hallucinatory now, nightmarish, as Lex tried to bury his fear in the grey haze of his sleep-deprived mind. 

"This is a lesson, Lex. When you are arrogant, your false sense of control can be yanked away from you." Lionel braced himself, his hand hot on Lex's hip. 

Lex focused on his face, pressed hard into the desk, the edge of the blotter cutting into his jaw. Anything at all to block out the sharp tearing as his father entered him. 

"I'm sure this hurts you more than it hurts me." Lionel's rough chuckle grated the air around them. "But I doubt you'll forget this lesson." The strokes were meant to hurt. A brutality that Lex couldn't ignore. The table was gone, the shimmering wall, everything but the scalding pain racing up his spine, down his arm, curling his fingers into fists. 

Grunting as he came, Lionel called no names. Nor did he speak as he fastened his pants and left the office. 

Lex realized that was the first time his father had touched him since the press photos taken at his mother's funeral. He didn't even bother to pull up his jeans as he crawled around the side of the desk to vomit in the trash can. He had barely eaten for days and the acidic bile burned his throat. Lex rested his cheek on the cool wood floor, wishing the searing in his esophagus was the only pain he felt. For the first time in weeks Lex longed for sleep to take him. He was so tired he felt he could sleep even here, even now. 

~finis~ 


End file.
